


Control Freak

by mattysones



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7797652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattysones/pseuds/mattysones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If he's so damn all mighty, where's his fucking watchful eye in my direction?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control Freak

**Author's Note:**

> I was in weird mood and this came out ... this isn't even my usual writing style. Not betaed, so I'm happy to accept criticism.

==  
"I'd hate to have God's job."

"... he's a control freak."

"... you said you didn't believe in God."

"... that's what he would be ... an asshole, control freak." A pause. An intake of breath and a gentle thump. "If he's so damn all mighty, where's his fucking watchful eye in my direction?"

 

The day my best friend was buried, the sky wasn't raining. Who the hell was I kidding? I was crying my heart out in front of someone who relied on me, and it was the most shameful thing I had done in a while.

_That's a lie. That's a lie as if I'd ever convinced myself._

I'd missed his wedding.

I'd watched his wife cry like their daughter.

And I could only think _take me with you, take me with you. You're supposed to be by my side, let me be by yours._ Touching? No, selfishness. I'm selfish for wanting to stop where I was and die with him, selfish for watching his family suffer and not saying a goddamn thing.

I'd hate to have God's job, to be the one to create this. To be the one to see pain blossom for, who knows? His own amusement, maybe. I'd hate to be the one responsible for creating these climaxes again and again, and then they start over _again_ because God's own unoriginality calls for repeat history, to see the human will crumple and crawl away and hide in the body like the shiver of weakness Will really is.

The characters to get tortured the most are supposed to be the author's favorites.

We must be on the goddamn pedestal.

Or so a certain little alchemist mumbled one drunken night, slumped against a bar too tall for his chest to reach even with a stool, clutching a glass of amber, half drank, eyes narrowed at nothing in particular and his mouth pulled down in a scowl that doesn't suit him. No, no, rumpled suits him, but not sad. He looked like both, like a dog that was displeased rather than sad that it had just been kicked. He's used to being kicked. He's tired of it.

"God's a fucking asshole."

"You don't believe in God."

He darted his eyes at me, the frown pulling deeper. "... that's what he _would_ be ... an asshole, control freak." He snickers, and tilts his shot glass toward his mouth and swallows what gets in, letting the rest pool on the counter like drool. Sloppy little brat.

I'm already going to Hell. What would it matter if I said something to disagree?

==  
Hell is void. Nothingness, or so a little alchemist once said. I wouldn't doubt he that he knows what he's talking about. His brother's gone, living in nothingness. His limbs are gone, torn to nothingness. His mother is gone, reduced to nothingness.

I missed my best friend's wedding. He was gaining something, I lost something precious, preciousness lost to nothingness.

Contrary to popular belief, we weren't fucking. There's a level of intimacy that doesn't involve our dicks, and Hughes was the first person to ever give that to me. To give me _something_ , rather than that void that came with taking the life out of bodies and watching their eyes loose brightness, their flesh turn inside out and sometimes the sickening thumpheave that came when their corpses hit the ground.

He gave me companionship, and the comfort that there was life beside me.

And that bitch took it from me.

...

I like Gracia. I wish nothing on her. Nothing else that hasn't already happened, because she deserves the world on a platter, sunshine-filled days and daisy chains so she can raise darling Elicia in peace.

This was before I realized there were others beside me, that there was and they would be my lifelines besides Hughes.

At the time, I couldn't watch someone I relied on so wholly to be taken from me. Unlike Edward, I couldn't watch my limbs be torn off. 

Maes found me hiding in our bar, slumped against the counter with my cheek pressed against the wood top, staring at the half-full glass of amber. "You're a selfish asshole, you know that?" He'd said as he'd pulled back a stool and sat in it, "I'm not gone yet."

And I'd laughed. A dry laugh because it wasn't funny, and because I had to respond--I had taken a finishing swig from my shot glass. "I'm a selfish asshole, you know." I'd said, hitting the glass base against the counter with a thud. "I'm a fucking possessive, control freak."

Maes had grinned wickedly at that, pushing the glass away when the bartender came to see it refilled. "So I'm your girlfriend now?"

I'd met his eyes with a slightly glazed gaze for that, I'd had to let him know I meant anything that I said. "More important than that." I'd slurred.

And he'd understood.

I puked over his reception suit that night.

Gracia let me sleep on their couch without saying a word the next day. Not about what my absence implied, not trying to understand Hughes and my's relationship because she probably thought she wouldn't understand.

I don't know, I can't speak for the woman.

==  
"God's a fucking asshole." Fullmetal muttered with his mouth pulled in a frown that didn't suit him. "You're a fucking asshole."

"We're talking about this again, now?" I muttered back, receiving a smack to the head, "I'd hate to have God's job."

"... he's a control freak."

"... you said you didn't believe in God."

"... that's what he would be ... an asshole, control freak." Fullmetal suddenly gasps and sucks in his breath, tilting his head back and exposing his throat. His metal arm flies back, smacking the wall with a weak thump. "If he's so damn all mighty," He pants, "Where's his fucking watchful eye in my direction?"

I look up from my position between the boy's legs and smirk to myself, not taking his babbling seriously. Contrary to popular belief, we are most definitely fucking.

I'm already going to Hell, what would it matter if I gained a little something before it?

* * *

[Here's the lyrics](http://www.songmeanings.net/lyric.php?lid=3530822107858489932) that inspired this. Yay! Modest Mouse! .__.


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